


C is for Caste

by Toastybluetwo



Series: Dragon Age Alphabet - Dagna [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-15
Updated: 2012-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-29 14:14:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/320789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toastybluetwo/pseuds/Toastybluetwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, there’s this meme going around that explores various characters in the Dragon Age universe based on the letters of the alphabet. I decided to do some exploration of Dagna, a character that there’s not a lot of information concerning, but I found her spunkiness and perkiness intriguing.</p><p>What happens when the lines between the privileged and the oppressed are blurred?</p>
            </blockquote>





	C is for Caste

C is for Caste

Context.

Dagna had learned, over the years, that certain words contained a great deal of power. It wasn't just the magical incantations, either – nor was it magical power that could be held between individual syllables and phrases. She realized that words in the common tongue could evoke powerful memories in those that heard them, drawing out emotions that could hold still a conversation and bright either weight or levity to the air around the speaker.

Now, even as she sat upon the rooftop of some unknown building, a blindfold over her eyes, she pushed aside her gripping fears with the memories of Orzammar. The exchange that was certain to come, one that required a great deal of secrecy as to demand that she be taken in a carriage with a blindfold over her eyes, reminded her of tales she had heard as a child. Tales of back room deals, Dust Town inhabitants and Diamond Quarter nobles alike indulging in darkness and hushed whispers as someone was dragged to a dusty chamber and tied to a chair.

Dagna was not tied to her chair, though she had been guided gently to one by the two men – they were men; she had heard them speak earlier – that guarded her and guided her. She had agreed to come. She had agreed to the terms of this meeting.

She was not sure that she was prepared with what would come to pass in the minutes that were sure to follow.

One of the men placed her small quilted bag on a table before her – she assumed it had to be a table, or at least some sort of raised surface – and began to remove its contents. She heard the clinking of familiar vials, and the unmistakable sound of a wooden surface rubbing up against the soft quilting. For a moment, the movement close to her proximity seemed to cease. She heard only the faraway and familiar sounds of the streets of Minrathous – the snorting of horses, wooden wheels upon cobblestone streets, quiet conversation, and even the flute of a street performer.

Dagna decided to break the silence herself, with an assumption of the object that her potential allies might be staring at. "Those are processed lyrium nuggets," she said, trying to keep the trembling from her tones. "I am still running tests on their viability. They are not quite yet ready for widespread use and sale."

Someone removed the blindfold from her eyes, and she found herself staring at – was he a man? An abomination? Either way, there was something strangely familiar about him. He wore a black cloak with a hood that fell almost down to his brown eyes, but the hood did not disguise the scarring on the left side of his face. The skin there appeared stretched to the point of tearing, melding with the muscles below it and forming tightly over the hidden bones.

"I assume that this is the fuel for the Tevinter steam engines you alluded to?" The man held up a pile of papers that had been bound together with a scrap of twine. "I read the thesis that you presented before the East Circle yesterday."

"You must have been up all night reading that, then." The flattery inherent in his words caused Dagna to smile despite herself. "It's kinda long, and I didn't give anyone a copy before yesterday."

"Your work isn't exactly a secret among mages in the Underground." He set the thesis down next to the case that held the lyrium nuggets, his expression turning somewhat sympathetic. "I'm sorry we had to treat you this way. We weren't sure that you could be trusted. Are you familiar with the Mages' Underground?"

"Oh, yes." She might have been an outsider among the mages, but she had been a confidante to many of them over the years. She'd have had to live a life of complete solitude among the mages of Ferelden, the Free Marches, and Tevinter in order to have avoided talk of the Mages' Underground.

Then, realization set in, replacing the feeling of curiosity with one of horror, which immediately reflected upon her freckled face. The Mages' Underground did not operate without their hands being slick with blood, especially over the past few years. First, they had destroyed the Chantry in Kirkwall. Then, the one in Cumberland followed. The Circle in Hossberg rose up, almost unanimously, against the Templars there and once freed of the tower, held the city under siege for two weeks.

For the moment, the Imperium remained mostly impervious to these rebellions, almost horribly so. The wealthy Magisters and Senators treated the Imperial Chantry like an overfed cat, giving the Black Divine and his Templars treats, sweets, and all manner of luxuries. It was with these presents that the balanced remained. The Chantry didn't trust the mages, but what choice did they have but to live and work with them when it was the mages that filled their weekly pay pouches?

The caste system of the Imperium was no different than the one she had been born into, the one she had resented so deeply. This time, however, Dagna could not decide whether she, by virtue of being a dwarf with magical knowledge, had allied herself with the privileged or the oppressed.

Either way, she owned the explosives, and she could make more within days. Either way, if she agreed to aid the Underground, people would die. The blood would be transferred to her hands.

But no. This wasn't right. She had benefitted from the mages with little risk to herself. No one shut her up in a tower. No one prevented her from free travel. She lived in a estate in one of the wealthiest cities on Thedas, apprenticed to a Senator who, himself, lived outside of the rules.

Was it fair?

No more fair than the difficulties that the average Duster faced every single day of their lives.

"I can see that you're worried about helping us. Don't worry. We've come prepared to make it easy for you. And not just with money." The mage was speaking again. This time, he gestured at a pile of crates that had been stacked nearby. "We've acquired refined lyrium for you, as well as some of the more expensive ingredients required in the manufacture of processed lyrium."

Her gaze shifted to the crates. Refined lyrium wasn't cheap, nor safe to mine. It grew in the Deep Roads, usually in Darkspawn-infested portions, and almost always several weeks below the surface. The Underground had either gone through a great deal of trouble to mine it themselves, or expense to hire someone to do it for them. Then again, it was reported that they had a great many Grey Warden allies in their ranks.

Blinking hard, Dagna tried to stall for time. "I would have to talk to my employer about this," she said as smoothly as she could. "I'd keep your secret, of course. I'd just say that I was looking to do some extra work in my off-time."

"Of course," the mage replied, nodding his head. "A day's time should suffice for you to speak to him, since the Senate isn't in session." Raising a hand, he gestured toward a tall, red-haired woman. She stepped forward, bearing the blindfold that Dagna had been wearing beforehand. "We'll be in touch. Oh. You'll want to take this with you." Methodically, the mage began to repack Dagna's bag, adding what appeared to be a small leather pouch. "Take this money as a gesture of goodwill. If you choose to keep your manufacturing methods to yourself, we'd prefer that you don't use it to aid the Chantry. You have benefitted from the research and handiwork of mages. You owe us that little."

Dagna caught the barely-veiled threat there, and nodded her head. "Of course," she murmured softly. No. She wouldn't help the Chantry. Human religion held no interest to her, and something about the deeply corrupt Imperial Chantry made her skin crawl.

But it was true. She had benefitted, lived outside of the rules, and enjoyed the freedom of a wide-open sky.

Most mages didn't have that much.

"By the way," she said quietly, looking up at the mage's face again. "Do I know you?"

A brief smile flitted upon his scarred lips before vanishing completely. "I think we might have met once or twice."

Then, the blindfold fell over her eyes, and Dagna felt hands on her arms again, helping her gently from her seat.


End file.
